


Agatha Heterodyne in The Adventure of His Lecherous Lordship

by StringedVictory



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Light Bondage, Other, Roleplay, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StringedVictory/pseuds/StringedVictory
Summary: When Baron Gil spies a beautiful maiden, he wants his faithful advisor to bathe her and bring her to him. There is a limit to how much of this foolishness Tarvek and Agatha will indulge.Utterly shameless porn written forthiskinkmeme prompt. If you enjoy this fic, please do go check out the kinkmeme! It needs more love!





	

“You want me to what?” spluttered Tarvek.

“You heard me,” said Gil, grinning. “Take that comely lass-“ he winked at Agatha- “and bathe her and bring her to me.”

“Comely lass?“ muttered Agatha, trying to keep the smirk from her face.

“And just why would I do that?” said Tarvek, arms folded.

“You know,” Gil replied. “Because you’re my loyal and indispensable advisor.” He clapped Tarvek heartily on the back. Agatha stifled a snort. “You wouldn’t want to displease the Baron, now, would you?”

“You smug sack of-“ Tarvek began, then stopped. A devilish smile began to unfurl itself across his face, and he glanced over at Agatha. “All right, sure, Your Lordship,” he said. “Wait in your chambers. I’ll prepare the maiden for you.”

“Got something up your sleeve, have you?” said Agatha, shaking her head even as she walked toward Tarvek and took his outstretched hand.

“Why ever would you suspect that?” said Tarvek, the picture of innocence. “Come with me, my dear. I’m afraid there’s no point in resisting the whims of this scoundrel. To the baths.”

Tarvek wrapped an arm around Agatha’s waist and led her down a hallway to the room that served as her bedroom on Castle Wulfenbach. At least, it was where she kept her things, and it provided a thin veneer of plausible deniability for the escapades which usually went on in Gil’s room. At the back was a small bathroom. Tarvek wished, for the purpose at hand, that it had been designed with luxury rather than function in mind, but he supposed it would have to do. 

“Now then”, he said, turning on the tap and rummaging through the cupboards. “We’ll get you nice and clean, just the way His Lordship likes.”

“Shall I get undressed now?” said Agatha sweetly, toying with the buttons on her blouse. Only her eyes betrayed her lascivious intent.

Tarvek’s dispassionate façade held firm. “Yes, my dear, I do believe now is the time.”

Agatha stripped out of her clothing- more slowly than necessary, Tarvek noticed- and climbed into the tub. She folded her glasses and placed them on a nearby table.

“Does mademoiselle prefer lavender or rose?”

“I think the question is which one the Baron prefers, isn’t it? Since, you know, I have to make a favorable impression on him and all,” said Agatha, stretching out as much as the little bathtub would allow.

“I think your impression is quite favorable enough,” Tarvek replied, “but you’re right. Lavender it is then.” He sprinkled some crystals into the water, and the fragrance quickly filled the little room.

“Aww, you mean you can’t make her smell like gingerbread? I like gingerbread even better,” said Gil, peeking in the doorway. Tarvek regarded him with disdain.

“What?” said Gil with a shrug. “You’re putting on this big act for my benefit and I can’t even watch the show?” He perched himself on a low three-legged stool.

Agatha crossed her arms over her chest. “You know,” she said, with a pointed glance at Tarvek, “It feels almost like the Baron is in the room at this very moment. He must be watching me through some fiendish device. You’ll have to help me with my bathing- I just can’t do it alone.”

Tarvek sighed. “Fine. Don’t worry about His Lordship- he’ll see everything sooner or later. And I’ll be needing this,” he added under his breath, shoving Gil off the stool and dragging it over to the tub.

“Suit yourself,” said Gil, leaning against the doorframe.

Tarvek filled a small pitcher with the warm water and poured it slowly onto Agatha’s head. He watched with interest as it trickled over her, weighing down her hair and falling in little streams from her breasts. He further noted with satisfaction that Gil was even more transfixed.

“First, we’ll wash your lovely locks.” Tarvek was pleased to see that a bottle of the French shampoo he’d given Agatha was already in the tub. He poured some into the palm of his hand and began working it into Agatha’s hair.

“If it isn’t too much trouble, could you rub my head some more, please?” said Agatha, fluttering her eyelashes up at him. Tarvek obliged, massaging her scalp firmly with his fingers. As he did, she made little soft noises of pleasure which he suspected were not entirely part of the act.

Tarvek finished his task with the shampoo and rinsed Agatha’s head with the pitcher. “We’ll want to keep this out of the dirty water, of course,” he said as he fashioned her hair into a quick, loose twist and secured it atop her head with a pair of jeweled pins. Gil said nothing but continued to look intrigued.

“All right. Moving right along.” Tarvek moistened a washcloth and handed it to Agatha. “For your pretty face, mademoiselle.” She set to work washing her face as Tarvek poked around in the cupboard. “Aha. Here we go.” 

He drew out a sponge, saturated it, wrung it out, and soaped it up. “May I do the honors?”

Agatha nodded, the hint of a smile playing about her lips. Tarvek took a deep breath and sat on the stool. He began to scrub Agatha with the sponge, starting at her neck and working slowly downward. Gil let out a low whistle.

Taking care not to acknowledge Gil- unless shifting his chair to allow a better view counted- Tarvek started in on Agatha’s breasts with the sponge. He moved in slow, deliberate circles, enjoying the feel of how they yielded softly to his touch. For a brief, wild moment, he considered abandoning the act entirely and leaping into the bath with her. Instead, he contented himself with gently blowing cold air at her nipples until they stood out hard and pink.

For her part, Agatha treated the men to a series of low moans that Tarvek was sure owed more to her experience on the stage than to anything he was doing. Still, he realized not without dismay that her performance was, if anything, working better on him than it was on Gil. He followed the line of Agatha’s suddenly steady gaze and found that it was fixed upon the bulge in his trousers.

Tarvek cleared his throat loudly. “Right. Well then.” He took Agatha’s hand and helped her to her feet. She braced herself to climb out of the tub. “Not yet,” he said softly. “Just stand up. Still more scrubbing to do.” He rinsed and readied the sponge again.

With every fiber of his being, Tarvek fought back the urge to pepper her with kisses from the waist down. He continued washing her just as methodically as he had begun, if a bit more slowly, tracing the Rubenesque curves of her bottom and thighs. 

Finally Agatha took his hand and gently guided the sponge between her legs, eliciting a brief envious growl from Gil. Tarvek felt his cock twitch at the anticipation of what he assumed she wanted him to do, but she dropped his hand after a brisk purposeful scrub.

“What?” she said softly, examining him with an enigmatic smile. “I just wanted to be thorough, that’s all.”

“All right. Almost done.” Tarvek composed himself as best he could, filled the pitcher again with fresh hot water, and rinsed Agatha one more time, front and back. “There we are.” He opened the drain and supplied her with the largest, thickest towel he could find in the cupboard, which he admitted to himself was only the best of a meager offering.

“There you go, my dear.” He helped Agatha wrap the towel securely around herself.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said with a mischievous giggle. He laughed back, but when he met her eyes he saw his Agatha, not the blushing ingénue she was portraying, and it took him a moment to remember what game they were playing and what his role was.

“Wow,” breathed Gil behind them. Tarvek was relieved to notice that Gil’s trousers were showing signs of strain as well.

“Hey you,” muttered Tarvek. “Scram.” He jerked his head toward the door.

“Why?” said Gil plaintively.

“Haven’t you ever heard of surprises, Your Lordship?” Tarvek grumbled. 

“You can’t watch her get dressed or it will ruin the fun of getting her undressed.”

“Fine,” said Gil as he retreated. “But this better be good.” Tarvek followed him to the bedroom door and shut it after him.

“My apologies, mademoiselle,” Tarvek said, returning to Agatha. “Please make yourself comfortable.” He took her hand and led her to the edge of the still-made bed.

“In the bedroom?” Agatha gasped in mock alarm and pulled the towel more tightly around herself. “I do hope you aren’t planning to take liberties too, monsieur!”

“I would do nothing of the sort, dear girl. Which is more than I can say for the Baron, I fear.”

Tarvek quickly took stock of the closet while Agatha brushed her hair. The prospects were even more scant than he had feared. Still, he mused, if he dressed Agatha in a potato sack Gil would probably hardly notice, so long as it showed enough décolletage. The only suitable clean dress he could find was a deep midnight blue, sprinkled with tiny pearls that gave the impression of a starry sky. He examined Agatha’s selection of corsets, reasoning that if he was the only one who cared anyway, he might as well do things properly.

“So sorry to keep you waiting.” Tarvek strode over to Agatha and began to lay out his choices on the duvet. “Before we lace you into this stunning little number, we’ll need to cover the essentials.” He indicated a simple yet elegant champagne-colored corset and a pair of drawers in matching silk.

Agatha frowned. “I know you’re the expert in, well, making girls appealing, but…” She shook her head. “See if you can find the turquoise corset in there instead.” 

Tarvek winced. “Turquoise? With the blue and the champagne silk? I must say, mademoiselle has rather unusual tastes.”

“Just a girlish whim,” she said, although Tarvek could detect a fire in her eyes at that moment that lent irony to her words. “I think the Baron will find it particularly captivating.”

“Suit yourself. I am only here to advise.” 

When Tarvek located the item in question, he had to admit that on its own it was a masterpiece. Intricately wrought chains graced its sides, along with a fine beadwork which on closer examination revealed itself to be tiny nuts and bolts. A large bow drew the eye to the spot just between the wearer’s breasts, as if he or Gilgamesh were to need any directions.

“A fine choice indeed. Pity it goes so poorly with the dress, but who am I to deny you your little whims?”

“Oh, thank you,” she said with a grin. “Shall we put it on?”

“Naturally.” Tarvek readied the corset as Agatha stood and slipped the towel down to her waist. At the sight of her breasts hanging soft and heavy, he lost nearly all of the ground he had gained towards mastering his physical reactions. 

He stepped behind Agatha and began to lace the corset around her torso. She made a show of lifting each breast free of its confines, then nestling them properly into place. He looked intently over her shoulder but said nothing.

As Tarvek’s quick fingers were finishing their task, Agatha took a step backwards and leaned into him. Her bottom pressed against his cock just long enough for him to know it was deliberate, before she straightened up abruptly. 

“Oh, do forgive me,” she said breathily. 

“Of course, mademoiselle.” Fighting the urge to press himself back against her, he tightened the last lace.

“Shall I put these on now?” she said, holding up the champagne silk.

“If you wish,” said Tarvek solemnly. “Though there is one thing you may prefer to do first.”

“What’s that?” 

“I imagine,” said Tarvek, “you may have heard the rumors that the Baron is, well, rather… naturally blessed.” He gestured with his hands to indicate precisely what he meant.

“Yes,” said Agatha giggling, “I’ve seen. Er, heard, I mean.” 

“I assure you, they are quite true.”

“Well, you would know,” she said with a smirk.

Tarvek reddened. “Anyway, I imagine the thought of entertaining a man so generously proportioned strikes terror into your maidenly heart.”

“Oh no,” Agatha squeaked. “Whatever shall I do?”

“I fear I have no choice but to surrender you to his clutches. However”- he paused theatrically- “I simply could not forgive myself if I let you go to his chambers unprepared.”

“Unprepared?”

Tarvek waved a hand. “You know. A bit of a warm-up. To render his athletic feats a little more tolerable for you later.”

Agatha broke into a broad grin, and then hastily recomposed her features into a trembling pout. “Well… if you’re sure.”

He nodded vigorously. “You understand, of course, that I am putting myself at no small risk by doing so. His Lordship would be most displeased were he to learn what I am offering you.”

“And for that, I’m very grateful,” she cooed.

“Think nothing of it, mademoiselle,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. “I am interested first and foremost in your comfort and pleasure.”  
He sank to his knees before her, and she let the towel fall open.

Tarvek leaned forward, shut his eyes and breathed deeply. He was rewarded with the rich, musky scent he had come to cherish when servicing Agatha as he most liked. As he exhaled, he gazed before him at the soft folds of her flesh, which swelled and reddened at his approach.

“Is this what you meant?” she said, a realistic nervous quiver creeping into her voice. “I do hope I haven’t misunderstood.”

“Not at all.” He gathered his wits about him again. “I am a connoisseur of fine art. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity to appreciate such a striking example of the beauty of the human form.”

Tarvek detected the very beginning of a stifled guffaw. “Well, thank you, monsieur.”

“Now then,” he said, struggling to maintain whatever persona he had apparently settled into. “I suppose I’ve kept you waiting too long already.” With that he brought his face in close until the tip of his outstretched tongue brushed her inner lips. Slowly he licked her from bottom to top, savoring the distinctive salty tang and the soft murmur of delight he elicited from her.

Agatha’s hips twitched, rolling her closer against his mouth. “I think-“ she said, the edge of a gasp trailing over her words, “all is forgiven.”

“Strictly for your convenience, you understand,” he said, or tried to say, his words barely intelligible as he pressed his face more firmly into her. 

In response, he received only a drawn-out moan of pleasure. Agatha tangled her fingers in his hair, encouraging him with a firm grip on the back of his head. Tarvek applied himself to his task with wild abandon, now licking, now nibbling, now slipping his tongue inside her and curling it upward. All the while he teased her with the occasional light stroke of his tongue across her clitoris, until finally he pressed his mouth to it in earnest. 

“Like that,” she gasped. “Oh, just like that.” Her fingers twisted themselves tighter into his hair, and Tarvek continued to lick and suck at her swollen clit, until at last she gave a long, deep groan that faded into a sigh. She relaxed her grip on his now-disheveled ponytail, and sank backwards into the bed.

Tarvek selected a handkerchief from a nearby basket and wiped his mouth daintily, like a courtier at a royal dinner. “May I be so bold,” he murmured, “as to say that mademoiselle is positively delicious?”

“You may,” said Agatha contentedly, “and you’re very kind.” She yawned deeply. “I’m afraid you may have helped too much.”

“How so?”

“I’ll need to be awake for the Baron, won’t I?” 

Tarvek pondered the observation. “You will indeed. Perhaps some chocolate to rouse your spirits?” Agatha generally kept a stash hidden in her vanity, and he’d rebuked Gil more than once for raiding it.

“Sounds lovely!” she said, stretching her arms languorously.

“In any event,” he said, rummaging through clank parts and hairpins, “I doubt even Wulfenbach’s considerable dimensions would cause you any distress now.”

“Surely not,” she said with a smile. “How thoughtful of you.” 

Tarvek found a bag of brandy truffles and placed one delicately into Agatha’s mouth. He noticed that the thin undergarment was soaked between her legs almost as soon as she put it on, and realized that for once he wasn’t the least bit concerned with damage to the silk. “Now let’s get your dress on. He’ll be wondering where you are by now.”

Tarvek made quick work of the row of fasteners down Agatha’s back. He fussed over the neckline until it lay artfully just below Agatha’s shoulders, with the pearls draped across her chest like the arm of a galaxy. As she admired her own reflection in the mirror, Tarvek thought he could detect a faint blush.

“Your hair, mademoiselle? I hope you’ll allow me to style it for you.”

“Of course! Something fancy, I hope.”

“I would be ashamed of anything less.” Tarvek set about transforming Agatha’s hair into an elaborate chignon, fully aware that Gil wouldn’t even notice it to remark on it. Still, he reasoned, it was the principle of the thing.

“All right,” she said, clutching his arm. “No point delaying any longer.”  
She slipped her feet into the only pair of shoes Tarvek had been able to find that weren’t stained with engine grease. “Off to see the Baron.” Had she been an actress in a play, Tarvek would have found her performance only a touch too dreamy and satisfied for the role of a frightened concubine. 

She took his arm, and together they navigated the winding back hallways and occasional rope ladders that led to Gil’s bedroom. Tarvek knocked briskly on the door.

“Who’s there?” said Gil sharply from within.

“It’s us,” said Tarvek, glancing down the narrow corridor. No one was coming, but he was hardly reassured.

“You could be anyone.” Gil’s acting skills were no match for Agatha’s, and his tone betrayed more mischief than hers.

Tarvek signaled for Agatha to wait outside the door. “Fine, it’s your discreet and tactful advisor,“ he grumbled, dripping with sarcasm.

Gil opened the door, dressed in sumptuous paisley silk pajamas which Tarvek recognized as a present he’d brought Gil from Italy. He was freshly shaven and gripped the stem of an unlit pipe in his teeth.

“Since when do you smoke a pipe?” said Tarvek under his breath.

Gil grinned. “Oh, this is Theo’s. He’s got this really high-quality home-grown-“

“I might have known.” Tarvek cleared his throat. “Your captive awaits you, sir.”

Gil’s jaw fell open as Agatha walked in, pulling the door closed behind her. 

“Turn around, please, mademoiselle,” said Gil once he had regained his powers of speech. Agatha huffed but obliged him with a brief twirl. 

“You’ve outdone yourself, Sturmvoraus,” he said with a shake of his head. 

“She’s such a vision in blue it’s almost a shame to undress her.”

“You scoundrel!” exclaimed Agatha, eyes warm but mouth drawn into a scowl. “Why, you’re no gentleman at all.”

“Indeed not, my dear,” said Gil with a chuckle. “Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward the bed, which to Tarvek’s astonishment was actually made. Gil opened the little cabinet on the bottom of his nightstand and retrieved a bottle of cognac. “Care for a sip?”

“Oh, no, I’d better not,” squeaked Agatha.

Gil poured a glass and offered it to Tarvek, who accepted it with a sigh. “I know better by now than to witness one of your spectacles without something to steel the nerves.”

Gil took a quick pull from the bottle and set it back down. “All right then.” He strode over to Agatha and lifted her hand to his lips. “You should know, mademoiselle,” he said with a serious look, “that ordinary men may not satisfy you after a night with me. I fear there is nothing I can do about that.”

Tarvek spluttered and yelped as cognac went up his nose.

“If what you say is true,” said Agatha shyly, “then I think it’s cruel of you to leave me to be disappointed.”

“Ah, but this will be a night of passion you will always remember. I think it would be cruel of me to deny you that.” He planted a kiss on her mouth, then slipped both arms around her waist and bent her back until they fell together onto the bed.

“Oh, Your Lordship!” she said breathlessly. “No shame at all, I see.” She was clearly doing little to fight the sly smile from her face.

“None whatsoever,” he said cheerfully, and continued to trail kisses down the front of her dress as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “But you’re overdressed.” He pulled her into an upright position and eyed her back with concern. “I simply can’t wait to have you out of this,” he said, tugging at the top fasteners with increasing frustration.

“Rip that fabric,” said Tarvek through gritted teeth, “and you’re going to be a very lonely man tonight.”

For a moment, Gil looked sheepish, to Agatha’s evident amusement. “Ah, of course,” he said, and then brightened. “Sturmvoraus!” he bellowed with a snap of his fingers. “You know how these things try my patience. If you would?”

Gil took another swig of cognac as he watched Tarvek unhook Agatha’s dress. With a dramatic flourish, Tarvek slipped it over her head, leaving her standing in the turquoise and champagne combination. Silver chains sparkled around her torso, with tiny embroidered roses covering the drawers. If Gil even noticed the mismatch, he clearly didn’t mind. As Tarvek had predicted, his eyes shot straight to Agatha’s cleavage. 

“My, it’s drafty in here!” she said.

“I have plenty of ways to warm you up,” said Gil, yanking his shirt over his head without regard for the buttons. He wrapped his arms around her and continued his onslaught of kisses, now focusing his attentions on the exposed tops of her breasts.

“Oh my,” she squeaked. “You… you like them that much?”

“They’re magnificent, my dear,” said Gil lecherously, “and I can’t content myself with just a glimpse.” He reached for the laces of her corset and looked almost surprised when they came undone in his hand.

“Idiot-proof knot,” explained Tarvek. Seeing Gil struggle to unfasten the bodice, he added, “Oh come now, even you can figure this one out, Herr Baron. Pretend it’s the protective casing on one of your clanks.” To his astonishment, Gil seemed to benefit from the suggestion, and managed to remove the garment undamaged.

As Gil brushed the corset aside, Agatha nearly dove off the bed to retrieve it and place it by the headboard. Gil was too busy undoing the drawstring of his trousers to notice, but the sight tripped something in Tarvek’s memory. Suddenly, he recalled an intriguing advertisement from a French house of lingerie, and it dawned on him why Agatha had been so insistent on wearing turquoise.

“That’s better,” Gil purred, now completely naked himself. “A much nicer view. I don’t know why you bother with all that silk and lace to cover them up. Just my little joke, Sturmvoraus,” he added as Tarvek huffed and prepared to speak in protest. He fondled Agatha’s breasts and began trailing a line of kisses down her abdomen and over her drawers, before pausing and looking up.

“If I didn’t know any better,” said Gil, “I would swear I smell my useless advisor’s cologne.” He shot a meaningful glance at Tarvek, who made a face of mock offense at the suggestion. 

With a shrug, Gil slipped the undergarment from Agatha’s legs and whispered unctuously in her ear. “And now, my luscious little thing, it will be my pleasure to deflower you.” He smoothed the covers and motioned for her to recline. Instead, she directed him to do so himself, with a hand on his chest.

Agatha bit her lip. “If you insist on taking me… I once saw a Roman fresco in a book at school, where the woman was sitting, er…”

“Ah, you’d rather be on top! I do so like a girl who knows what she wants.” Gil lay down and folded his hands behind his head with a smirk. He was fully erect, providing ample proof that Tarvek’s boasts-by-proxy were scarcely exaggerated.

Agatha crept up to Gil, gripping his arms firmly as her breasts fell in his face. He took the opportunity to kiss and lick them, grinning in anticipation of her amorous attentions. Instead, she sat back with a triumphant smile to the sound of a soft click and Tarvek’s knowing chuckle.

Gil looked to his left and right, only to find delicate yet deceptively strong handcuffs binding his wrists to the headboard. His puzzled expression grew into one of astonishment, with a tinge of admiration as he gazed up at Agatha.

“The corset!” he said, shaking his head. “I should have known.”

“Well, it seems you’re in a bit of a predicament, Herr Baron,” she crowed, all meekness gone from her voice. 

“When am I going to learn my lesson about picking the feisty ones,” he stage-whispered and winked at her.

“Don’t worry, Your Lordship,” said Agatha. “You’ll still get to enjoy your fair maiden. But you’re in for a little more than you planned.”

“How’s that?”

“Perhaps your loyal advisor would like to show you the limits of his loyalty.”

“I’m afraid, sir” said Tarvek with a dramatic sigh, “that even I have my price. And sometimes all it takes is a pretty face.” He began to unbutton his trousers.

“You scheming little fiend,” said Gil. “Why am I not the least bit surprised?”

“Perhaps if you treated me with a bit more respect when I was in your employ, I wouldn’t have defected so easily.” Tarvek climbed onto the bed, his cock already starting to perk up, and made his way toward Gil.

“Perhaps if you had an ounce of morals in your entire slimy body-“ began Gil, but he was already drawing his knees apart as Tarvek approached.

“Getting a little ahead of yourselves, eh, gentlemen?” said Agatha with a smirk. “Whatever happened to ladies first?” She threw a leg over Gil’s waist, facing him.

Gil’s hips twisted and writhed, leaving him thrusting into empty air as Agatha perched herself on his torso. “You mean you’re not going to-“

“I may.” Agatha snapped her fingers and grinned at Tarvek. “Now where were we, Herr Sturmvoraus? Perhaps you should prepare him for his own deflowering.”

“Of course,” Tarvek intoned. He rummaged through Gil’s bedside table, shoving aside one or two mostly empty liquor bottles, and found a small jar of lotion. “Spread your legs, please, Your Lordship.”

“All right,” said Gil in his best sulking voice, obliging just a little too quickly.

Agatha leaned close to Gil as Tarvek located a glove from Gil’s lab-supply nightstand drawer. “Hey, if you want your hands back…” she said, under her breath.

Gil shook his head. “Go for it.”

“You’re quite right, mademoiselle,” said Tarvek as he slipped a finger into Gil, earning a gasp. “This will be so much easier if he’s properly oiled up.”

“Take your time,” said Agatha, nibbling on Gil’s ear. “I’m not going to tire of him anytime soon.” She sat poised over him so that her breasts were just within reach of his mouth once more, then pulled away as soon as he made an effort at licking them.

“Saucy little thing,” said Gil. “You’d pay for your insolence, if…”

“If we hadn’t gotten the better of you already?” Agatha cut him off with a grin and a bite on his nipple. 

Tarvek underscored the point with the addition of another finger. “Admit it, Herr Baron. You’ve been had.”

Gil tried in vain to fight back a moan. “Don’t think enlisting the help of this sneak is an accomplishment,” he added, now twitching his hips rhythmically in time with Tarvek’s teasing. “He’s been waiting for a chance to sell me out.”

“And who wouldn’t, for a chance at an arse like yours,” said Tarvek, surprising even himself. Agatha squealed in delight.

“All right,” she said, turning away from Gil to face Tarvek. “Shall we claim our prize now?”

“As you like, my dear,” said Tarvek gallantly. He gestured to Gil’s swollen cock. “All yours, if you want it.”

“Oh, well, if you don’t mind,” she said as demurely as she could. 

“Just a moment,” said Tarvek as he grabbed a stray pillow from the foot of the bed. “Let’s make this easier on ourselves. Hips in the air, Wulfenbach old boy.”

Gil did as he was told and Tarvek positioned the pillow under him. “Now,” he grunted.

“Now what, Your Lordship?”

“Fuck me now,” he hissed.

“May I just say,” began Tarvek, “how much satisfaction it gives me to hear-“

“Please,” Gil groaned, straining at his shackles.

“He did say please,” Agatha pointed out.

“Since you begged so prettily,” Tarvek said. “Here goes.” He stripped off his glove and gripped Gil firmly by the hips. With a deep breath, he slowly slid his cock into Gil, who rewarded him with a guttural groan.

“There we go,” Tarvek purred as he began to thrust more rapidly. Agatha moaned softly as she watched Tarvek building up speed and felt Gil’s hips rock beneath her. “God, you two are just-“ She watched, speechless, as Tarvek drew almost all the way back and then drove himself back into Gil with full force. “-wow,” she trailed off. 

“Agathaaa,” Gil whined. “What are you waiting for?”

“I’m sorry, Your Lordship,” she said over her shoulder. “Am I wasting your precious time?”

“Please let me inside you,” he whimpered.

“Quick,” said Tarvek archly with a nod toward Gil’s crotch, “before that monstrosity explodes and takes us all with it.” 

“All right,” said Agatha with an indulgent smile at Gil. “Because you begged.” She faced Tarvek, gripped Gil’s cock firmly and guided it into herself, sighing with pleasure as his girth filled her. “Maidenly enough for you?” The resultant noise from Gil made her clit throb. 

“Unparalleled, I’m sure, mademoiselle,” said Tarvek, leaning in between thrusts to give her an unsteady, sloppy kiss on the lips.

“How convenient!” she said brightly. “I can pacify our unruly captive and enjoy you, all at the same time.” She directed Tarvek’s hands back to Gil’s hips, and wrapped her arms around Tarvek’s torso as she began to lick and nibble his lower lip.

“Don’t kiss that filthy traitor- oh, fuck,” said Gil, his persona abandoned in the throes of orgasm.

Agatha pouted. “Well, that will hardly do,” she said. “Dash it all, Herr Sturmvoraus, you’ve worn the poor man out.” She gave Gil’s thigh a sympathetic pat.

“Credit where credit’s due,” Tarvek said, panting as he continued his task. “You helped.”

“Don’t get up,” Gil mumbled. “Do the thing while he does his thing.” Gil gave a few listless twitches of his hips to underscore the point. Taking her cue, Agatha rubbed herself against Gil’s pubic bone and continued lavishing kisses over Tarvek, who gritted his teeth in concentration.

“Wulfenbach,” Tarvek grunted, digging into the throaty final consonant. Gilgamesh gripped Tarvek more tightly with his thighs, pulling him in deeper with his ankles crossed behind Tarvek’s back. The tension on Tarvek’s face built for a moment longer until he exhaled sharply and lurched forward against Agatha. “Two down,” he murmured. “One to go.”

“So help her out,” said Gil, who had gathered enough energy for a display of exasperation. “Be a gentleman and use your hands.”

“Patience, Gilgamesh,” sighed Tarvek, extricating himself from Gil. “Now, where were we?” he added softly, wrapping an arm around Agatha’s waist. “Here we go.” Clutching Agatha close to himself, Tarvek slipped a hand between her and Gil, letting his fingers find their way in alongside Gil’s diminished prick. Agatha gasped and writhed as Tarvek stroked her, until she too was overcome.

Tarvek planted a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose. “Satisfied?”

“Very. Looks like he was wrong about that,” she said, gesturing at Gil. 

“Hmm,” said Tarvek as he licked his fingers clean. “A good vintage. Undertone of blustering oaf with lovely top notes of beautiful woman.”

“Har har,” said Gil. “Can I have my hands back now?”

“If you insist,” grumbled Tarvek as he freed Gil. 

Agatha curled up beside Gil, still dripping from her conquest of him. “Did it live up to your fantasy?”

“I think so. Maybe better,” he said, pulling her in for a kiss. “Only next time, let’s gang up on Tarvek,” he added in a whisper.

“Hmm?” said Tarvek, turning around. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” said Agatha sweetly. “Don’t worry.”


End file.
